Bowties Are Cool
by maveisher
Summary: Clara and the Doctor get ready to travel for the first time and clothes are the first priority.


"What year did you say?" Clara called as she turned away from the Doctor and towards a hallway that led out of the main counsel room.

"1983," He yelled back, switching a few more levers which to Clara seemed unnecessary.

She ran her hand along the TARDIS's textured wall as she walked, looking around for the first right the Doctor had instructed she make. The spaceship seemed to hum around her and every step she made, making her feel as if the machine were alive. Perhaps it was, the Doctor had never told her otherwise.

Her hand hit empty air and she stumbled a bit forward before peeking her head into the opening, finding just what the Doctor had described. Rows upon rows of clothes hung from metal poles that wound their way around the high, circular room. A spiral staircase ran close to the walls of the room, leading up to the towering storage of clothing. As she stepped farther into the room she noticed small plaques hanging over large sections of the clothes; it was organized by year. She brushed her hand along the clothing as she searched for the year they were headed.

Clara felt as though she were walking through a history book, passing thousands of years of history with only a few footsteps. The sixteenth century seemed to fly by her as did the 1800s and WWI. She felt a bit overwhelmed and insignificant as she compared herself to the thousands of years that had come before her and that would, of course, come after.

"Great, isn't it?" The Doctor said with a childish smile from behind her. She turned her head around quickly and returned his ridiculous smile, "A bit excessive though."

"Nah, excessive sounds negative. I like to think of it more as a giant fun room full of time," He widened his eyes and gave her a small smile. She rolled her eyes and continued her quest for the correct year, walking forward once again.

"1983 seems a bit hard to find in all this," Clara stared up at the spiraling room, holding the rail as she climbed farther upward. She heard the Doctor's footsteps trailing closely behind her.

"Here!" The Doctor exclaimed as she stopped, having seen the sign for the 80's herself.

"Warm or cold?" She asked, pushing at the clothing so she could get a proper look at each item.

"December," he responded simply, looking through the clothes with her. Her hands landed on a large striped sweater that felt thick and looked comfortable. She slid it off of the hanger and held it up to her chest. It fell to right above her knees and would definitely cover her hands with its excessively long sleeves.

"How about this?" She asked with a smile, turning to face him. He slid his eyes away from the shirt in his own hands and let them land on her. He scrunched up his eyes in concentration and turned back towards the rack, shoving aside jeans and sweatpants in his search. She continued holding the sweater to her, watching curiously as he called in triumph, "Aha!" He resurfaced with a folded piece of dark blue material, "Pants," he explained as he handed the thin things to her.

"Pants?" She said in surprise, "Hardly," she folded the sweater under her arm and opened up what the Doctor had handed her. They were, in fact, in the shape of pants, but they couldn't possibly be. They looked as though they would go to her ankle but they also felt as though they would morph to her legs the whole way down.

"Skinny jeans," the Doctor corrected himself, "that's the style now," He continued to rifle through the clothes and found himself what appeared to be his generic outfit, a button up, a jacket, dress pants, and a few other things Clara couldn't see in the pile.

"They look uncomfortable," She observed as he shoved a pair of black and white sneakers into her arms.

"They'll be fine," he promised, placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her around, walking her forward to a small room she hadn't noticed earlier, "Now dress," he instructed, lightly pushing her into it. He closed the door behind her and she turned around so that she was facing a large mirror hung on the wall opposite her. She placed the clothes piled in her arms on a bench that took up half of the small room. Quickly she changed into the large sweater that really was comfortable and then managed to shimmy into the tight jeans. She tried to bend her leg up to her chest and found it hindered by the pants, she huffed in exasperation. What good was style if it was impractical? Though she supposed those dresses she wore weren't exactly made for running either.

Lastly she pulled on the sneakers that read _Converse _on the side. She turned to face herself in the mirror and felt as though something were off. Her hair was still pulled up in a rather tight bun. She fumbled with the ties and pulled her dark hair loose so that it fell lightly on the shoulders of her light gray and red stripped sweater. "There," she decided, turning away from her reflection and picking up the dress she had just changed out of. She threw the door open and found the Doctor already standing idly, playing with something around his neck.

"Well don't you just look groovy?" He laughed as he looked up at her.

"Groovy?" She scrunched up her nose and looked down at her outfit, wondering if that was a good thing or not.

"Wrong decade, admittedly, but still true," He responded thoughtfully, holding his hand out for her. She took it and he twirled her a bit before bringing her back to face him.

"Is that a bowtie?" She asked in surprise as he took his hand from hers and brought it up to his neck once again.

"It most certainly is," he replied proudly, dropping his fiddling hand to his side.

"Cool," she said decidedly. He opened his mouth a little as it quirked up in a smile, "Isn't it just," he said in wonder, "Shall we?" He asked her loudly, his smile growing wide.

"We shall," She responded, lacing her arm through his as they paraded back down the staircase and out of the spectacular room, ready to start their adventure.


End file.
